


An Execution for the Blood God

by Aquila_Apus



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, Gen, Technoblade's execution since its your author's favorite scene in the DSMP, as you can see, author has no idea how to use tags, but im aware he has a victim complex, chat are blood hungry gremlins, first fanfic in ao3 lets goooo, please give me feedback im hungry for improvement, technoblade my beloved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 05:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30050508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Apus/pseuds/Aquila_Apus
Summary: The blood that has smeared my lips gives me the copper taste that I have long familiarized with.But this feeling, this feeling of my past sins weighing a punishment, is something that I am not familiar with.Especially when the punishment that I would receive was death, something I have avoided many times and wished to be kept that way.Looking at the people that captured me, I can see how disgusting they have turned out from the government of L’Manberg.How unfair it is for me to be executed for past sins that I have resolved as something truly evil, and moved on to become a better person, not meddling with the affairs of the silly nation I certainly didn’t approve of.How unfair it is for them to blame me for the destruction of that nation of theirs when they clearly used me as a weapon, as the Blade, and completely disregarded my clear disgust of a government, making one right in front of my eyes.or your sleep deprived author makes their first fanfic about their favorite scene in the Dream SMP.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 17





	An Execution for the Blood God

**Author's Note:**

> HeyyYyy (forgive me as i wrote this with my numb fingers from typing for 3 hours)  
> This is my first fanfic and I'd really appreciate for y'all to give me some feedback. Have a healthy meal, drink some water and get a good sleep schedule. do it rn. also the fight scene I wrote was the first action scene i wrote so yeah. Also, please give me kudos to inflate my small ego ok thanks

The blood that has smeared my lips gives me the copper taste that I have long familiarized with. 

But this feeling, this feeling of my past sins weighing a punishment, is something that I am not familiar with.

Especially when the punishment that I would receive was death, something I have avoided many times and wished to be kept that way. 

Looking at the people that captured me, I can see how disgusting they have turned out from the government of L’Manberg.

How unfair it is for me to be executed for past sins that I have resolved as something truly evil, and moved on to become a better person, not meddling with the affairs of the silly nation I certainly didn’t approve of.

How unfair it is for them to blame me for the destruction of that nation of theirs when they clearly used me as a weapon, as the Blade, and completely disregarded my clear disgust of a government, making one right in front of my eyes. 

Wearing my own armor, the armor I have spent weeks and months to attain for their own cause.

I have spent months with them explaining how I would always stick to my beliefs of anarchy, and they completely spit on it without a care for the world. 

Even Tommy said out loud what he saw me as, with that silly nickname of his.

The Blade.

I will forever be in his eyes as the Blade, a weapon to be used and objectified. 

I am not a person to their eyes.

I am only a weapon for their foolish and childish wars.

But Phil,  _ Phil _ is different. 

I was never comfortable to call him as my father, even when he took me in during his early expeditions. 

He taught me everything I knew, from the mastery of different weapons, thinking of battle plans to the calmness of farming potatoes and interacting with other people.

And they knew how important he was to me, so they made use of that one piece of leverage they’d have against me. 

They used the Angel of Death as a piece of meat to dangle unto me, a ravenous lion. 

That’s why I stopped resisting when they said that they captured Phil.

After all, for you Phil, the whole world. 

But, that doesn’t mean I will give them the satisfaction of killing me, the never dying Technoblade. 

No, no, no.

Little do they know, I sneaked a totem of undying underneath my crimson cape.

And I have every intention to use it. 

“Techno, stand inside this cage.” Tubbo tells me. His voice has certainly become colder, contradicting his joyful and energetic voice before the war. 

War truly changes people. 

Even teenagers.

Before going into the cage, I see the familiar glimpse of purple fluffy wings and the green and white striped bucket hat. 

“PHIL!” I scream, full of relief. He’s alive, thank goodness. He doesn’t seem hurt anywhere. He’s fine.

**_DADZA!_ **

**_Techno save Dad hurry_ **

**_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ **

**_E_ **

Ah, I almost forgot the familiar sounds of Chat. Can’t say I missed them. 

My eyes land to the smiling figure of Phil, assuring me that he’s fine. I shoot a small smile at him, until I see iron boots that clearly have Curse of Binding on them. 

I meet his eyes, now red with fury. How dare they use a Curse on him. That’s an extra stab on the arm for each person who imprisoned him once I get out of here. He gave me a comforting smile when he realized what I was looking at. 

“It’s fine, mate, I’m just in house arrest.” He waves dismissively. “Sorry about them finding the compass though. I was gone when they searched my chests for it.”

How is he still able to apologize for a danger that I brought to him? I still regret giving him that compass to my house, when it could clearly put him into danger. Curse my previous excitement to bond with my only friend.

I felt a nudge in my back, which was clearly a hilt of an axe. 

“Get in the cage, Technoblade.” Quackity says with a stern voice. 

I could still remember the voice he had when I chased him in the snow tundra. The evident fear in the casual tone he feigned. Perhaps the death of his abusive president changed him into a stone cold man. The same president that I hated. The same president I fought against for Wilbur.

Thinking about Wilbur just makes me grind my teeth. 

**_KILL QUACKITY_ **

**_HOW DARE QUACKITY INTERRUPT THE MOMENT BETWEEN YOU AND DADZA_ **

**_WE DEMAND BLOOD_ **

**_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ **

Another pang in my head once Chat came back, only to demand blood again. But I returned to the thought that a part of me didn’t want to come back. 

Wilbur, oh Wilbur.

The  _ real  _ son of Philza.

The child that I’ve become an older brother to. 

I could still remember the times that Wilbur and I would play with wooden swords.

Him being 10 and me being 13.

He wasn’t much of an active person, but he was clearly well-versed in his words and was able to charm people with his looks and words.

Which made him an equally dangerous individual compared to me. 

The man started his own nation, L’Manberg, with Tommy, his little brother. 

While they were busy with their little nation, I was dominating each kingdom I went into, blood staining the paths I’d leave. 

As I was busy dominating competition by competition, even potato farming ones, Wilbur sent me a letter.

A letter to fight for the country he made, after his accomplice, Eret, betrayed them for the price of becoming a king to the mother faction that Wilbur defied. 

The letter enchanted me, leading me to fight for a cause I didn’t think I’d fight for. 

And, mind you, I was no simple man to persuade. 

I knew from the times that Wilbur would lead me to give him the better tart when we were children, to the times he influenced me to join his little escapades, that this man had the ability to manipulate whoever he needed. 

But, he couldn’t do that if he was a madman. 

Oh, but he did. 

The man who oozed charisma became one who spiraled to madness after his own creation was stolen away from him by one of his closest friends. 

I remember the very look in his eyes when I first came. 

It was two weeks after the letter arrived in my mail.

The very look in his eyes was one of distrust and suspicion. 

He then proceeded to tell me how he valued my skills, how important I am then soon after if I worked for the president that he aimed to overthrow. 

I was shocked.

I thought it was a joke, but the very tone in his voice showed complete and utter seriousness. 

I looked into his warm and chocolatey eyes, which have now hardened to a muddy brown. 

So, why was I surprised when he blew up L’Manberg, when he found out that it would never be the same nation he founded? 

Why was I surprised when he begged his own father, Phil, to kill him, leading Phil to have a disgust in the nation that changed his own son?

And why was I surprised when more relationships and people were broken by this long gone nation?

I then unconsciously enter the iron cage, still preoccupied by the thoughts that ran through my head. 

**_JUST KILL THEM ALREADY_ **

**_SAVE PHIL!!!_ **

**_Punch quackity it’d be funny lol_ **

**_TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES_ **

**_BLOOD_ **

“Calm down, Chat. I know what I’m doing.” I utter under my breath. Which is true. I definitely know what I’m doing.

I see the anvil from up my head, dark and extremely heavy looking.

This’ll be a lackluster half death. 

I laugh at them, mocking their terrible attempt to kill me. Seriously, an anvil? Might as well stab me in the chest while you’re at it. 

“What is it, Techno? Laughing the fear away?” Quackity says with a sneer in his face. It’s forced, I can tell. 

“Underneath that facade of yours, deep down, you know you have n't gotten rid of the fear you have for me.” I say smugly, relishing the briefly scared expression, quickly hidden by the same stone cold demeanor.

“I am _ not _ scared of you, Techno. You are a human like everyone else at the end of the day. Means that you’re killable like me, and everyone else here. Technoblade never dies is just another phrase that means absolutely  _ nothing _ .” He practically seethes. 

I can’t wait to see the expression in his face when he sees this execution fail.

Tubbo clears his throat to keep all conversation over, and declares, “We are all here today to execute Technoblade by dropping an anvil.” He looks at the anvil above me, motioning the supposed punishment. I drop my back at the iron bars, the totem still underneath my cape. 

“His crimes for such a punishment are as follows.” He continues, and I don’t pay much attention to it, as Chat is screaming in my ear.

**_TECHNO ESCAPE RIGHT NOW_ **

**_TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES REMEMBER_ **

**_E_ **

**_TECHNODEAD_ **

**_YOU CAN JUST BREAK THE IRON BARS LOL_ **

**_KILL TUBBO_ **

**_DEATH_ **

Tubbo... Tubbo definitely changed. He was only 17 when I took one of his three lives by peer pressure by Schlatt, the president that we were supposed to overthrow. 

He didn’t seem much offended by it, but Tommy, his best friend was. 

He challenged me on a hand by hand duel, which Wilbur encouraged and Tubbo dejected.

Nevertheless, I accepted it, thinking I could teach him a lesson of my own.

I dominated the fight, as expected, and told him that that fight stayed at that place only. That there was no ill will to be held. That fight was a conversation we had of the universal language, violence. A conversation that is spoken by the winner and understood by the loser. 

But it seemed, Tommy never understood that lesson.

Wait. I snap out of my thoughts. Tommy was exiled, right?

The 16 year old was exiled because of committing arson to George’s house in L’Manberg. 

I remember laughing at it when Phil told me. That was so much like what Tommy would do.

I’ve got an execution, right?

Why am I thinking about such useless thoughts when I’m about to get killed?

Or were they really useless?

I didn’t even notice the white figure that flew from the air, glowing sword at hand and attacking the figures that were supposedly going to execute me.

“Techno, mate, run!” I hear Philza scream at me from the door of his house, as the figures of my executioners scramble to fight the intruder who I notice is Punz, the mercenary. 

And the voices in my head only said one thing,

**_RUN_ **

“Oh, hell no you don’t!” Quackity screams as he lowers the lever that was supposed to drop the anvil.

I scurry to get the totem, feeling the cold gold in my hands, and put it near my chest. 

A pain in my head that I can only identify as an anvil was soon replaced with cool and comforting pulses of magic.

Green particles surrounded me and it felt oh so calming and soothing. 

I feel the extra boost of strength the totem gives and break the iron bars that stared me down ever since I went in them.

“WHAT?” I could hear Quackity yell.

I see Carl, the horse that my executioners kept hostage as an extra piece of leverage with a familiar lime green figure.

“CARL! He’s got Carl!” I ran to him, not having a single thought on who had him.

“Full iron armor is in the chests. There’s a lead somewhere in there too. Me and Punz will distract them.” He says calmly as he wields a purple glowing axe and looks at me with that porcelain white mask of his that has a messily drawn smiley face, the black dots staring ominously into my soul. 

Dream.

The same person that fueled Wilbur’s insanity by giving him the explosives that destroyed L’Manberg. 

The same person that went side by side, choosing one that reaped more destruction and discord. 

The same person who I could compare to in fighting prowess and was as manipulative as Wilbur. 

But, I couldn’t bring myself to fear him since I myself was the one who rose victorious in the 10 round duel we both had before the whole war. 

“Thanks Dream, I owe you a favor.” I reply to him casually, since he’s one of the two people here I see as my equal.

He gives me a mock salute and then returns to the chaotic bloodbath nearby my execution venue, the familiar bloodlust he’s had when we fought either side by side or against each other in the past. 

I turn to my heels, and into the chests of a room made of blackstone with a sign called the ‘Final Control Room’. I’ve heard of this room, and it definitely didn’t bring happiness to those who’ve talked about it. 

**_Only real ogs remember this room lol_ **

**_Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo are shaking in their boots rn_ **

**_THE FEAR I HAVE FOR THIS ROOM OMG_ **

**_Join the fight_ **

**_TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES_ **

**_HEY TECHNO SAVE PHIL PLEASE_ **

“Chat, calm down.” I mutter, the screams growing louder. “Phil, will be fine. The man literally explored the unknown for five years, no need to worry.” 

I search for the chests, the thought that Eret betrayed the L’Manberg resistance and made them lose each one of their lives in this room staying in my mind.

It sends a shiver in my spine for such an act to be made in this room. 

I see the iron armor that Dream was talking about and put them on, and a singular iron pickaxe as the only weapon. 

I can work with this, I guess.

There’s some golden apples, strength and regeneration potions here, so I pocket them in case I run into a fight. 

And a fight I get.

I hear panting, heavy and ragged. And the voice laughs, a familiar sound that has become deranged since I last heard it. 

“You were supposed to die, Techno.” Quackity starts, anger boiling in those words. “You were supposed to die, you know, just lose one of your three complete lives, and then walk out. Your actions  _ destroyed _ this country-”

“I never destroyed this country-” I try to intervene.

I was unsuccessful. 

“What are you talking about?!” He asks hysteria dripping in his tone. “You spawned  _ three Withers _ , a creature that deals incredible damage, for God’s sake!“

“It was the only way to get my point through, Quackity!” I scream, him flinching as a result.

“I could never communicate to you verbally because I know I will only be brushed off. I’ve tried it, you heard me try to reason with you all. I talked about how heroes will only get bad endings. I used Theseus as an example! And you all kept going about your idiotic ideals. You kept trying to reason with me.” I glare at him, my crimson eyes, hot with rage. “You kept trying to make me the Blade again.”

“We wanted a government, Techno! We wanted independence as a nation.  _ You _ were being selfish-”

“ _ I _ was selfish?!” I laugh, unbelieving of the words that I just heard. “Was  _ I  _ the one who took your months worth of materials? Was  _ I _ the one who didn’t listen to your opinion on governments? Was  _ I _ the one who didn’t listen to the many warnings given to you about your actions? No, Quackity. It was me. It was me who was overlooked and objectified.” The grip on the iron pickaxe tightening to the point there were now splinters. 

“You have to know that we shouldn’t change our entire life for your convenience, Technoblade.” He says, venom lacing his words. “You should have just died, Techno. After that, we could’ve let you walk out, scot-free. The rest of us have only two or one lives left.  _ You  _ are the only one in this entire community who has all complete lives. Losing one life is no big deal-”

“Why are you treating my death as some kindergarten punishment? Even if I had all three lives, a death is a death. I know the heaviness of a death, Quackity, as I was the one who inflicted many, including yours.” I conclude with a stare, cold and murderous. 

I could see the man’s tanned fingers tighten more into the enchanted axe. 

“I am going to murder you, Techno. This is the only way that we will forgive you for your actions. You are no blood god here.” He says as he braces his axe, his fully enchanted armor glinting. “I will kill you and I will make it hurt.” 

I swing out the potions, drinking them fast and munched on a golden apple, feeling the familiar feeling of strength, regeneration and absorption running through my bloodstream. 

**_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ **

**_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ **

**_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_ **

The chant that Chat knows way too well rings in my ears.

“Blood for the Blood God.” I say to myself, flipping a golden coin midair.

The toll to be paid for Charon to be taken across the river of Styx.

Quackity’s eyes widen in fear, as he himself has only heard of rumors about this infamous coin flip.

The one I only use to fights that I will completely dominate. 

I rush forward, the iron pickaxe clashing to the clearly superior axe. The axe had maxed out enchantments and was made of the rarest ore here, Netherite.

Nevertheless, I can work this out.

I am Technoblade after all.

I move fluidly and into his side, slashing into his armor. He was unable to dodge, giving him a slight vibrating pang into his side.

I made use of this pain and jumped up, my pickaxe swinging unto his uncovered face.

“I have a pickaxe, Quackity, and I’ll put it,” I say as the pickaxe finally meets where I want it to be. “ _Right through your teeth!_ ”

He screams in pain, as the all too familiar crimson fluid runs out of the wound in his mouth, a hole pierced through with the pickaxe. 

I make use of this moment of vulnerability and attack the cracks of his armor, stabbing them one by one.

As his limbs are completely immobilized, I push him down into the ground with my arm and leg.

He attempts to fight back, flailing his axe around and around, looking completely powerless even with his amazing armor and weapon.

It makes me laugh uncontrollably, the adrenaline rush I once tried to escape, it feels way too good.

The chanting of Chat, the magic pulsing in my veins, the face of a man who knows he can’t escape, the wonderful crimson liquid flooding my vision and the feeling of winning makes me drunk out of my mind.

Quackity, who is screaming curses at me uncontrollably, still attempting to break out of my hold had this fearful expression in his face as I laughed.

“You’re a monster, Technoblade! We won’t let you get out of this. We’re going to kill Phil and everyone you lo-”

“Do you really think you can kill Phil, Quackity?” I ask him, tears in my eyes out of laughing so much. 

He shuts up with all the babbling. 

I am completely standing up now, with my foot in his chest, the pickaxe in hand. 

“This is not just the start of my revenge of all the things you’ve done against me, Quackity.” I say, the high still buzzing in my mind, but has significantly lowered. 

I put my lips near his ear, whispering a vow of revenge.

“I will destroy this nation that you are so ought to keep. I will make it a crater, from _fifty_ Withers and tons of explosives. Wilbur’s destruction will look like _ child’s play. _ I will completely destroy it from existence, like there was no nation to begin with.” I can feel Quackity’s breath hitch, and I move back, looking at the expression of fear he had. 

“Eye for an eye.”

I say as I slash his left eye, giving him a scar for his next life. 

He screams and as he does, I stab the chestplate and through his chest, aiming for the heart.

**Quackity was slain by Technoblade.**

I return to Carl, getting the lead that I pocketed and put it around him, leading him through the sewer system right through the Final Control Room.

“Let’s get you home.” I say to him softly, caressing his mane.

And we do, with thoughts of revenge and on what to cook for tonight. 

**Author's Note:**

> HeyyYyy (forgive me as i wrote this with my numb fingers from typing for 3 hours)  
> This is my first fanfic and I'd really appreciate for y'all to give me some feedback. Have a healthy meal, drink some water and get a good sleep schedule. do it rn. also the fight scene I wrote was the first action scene i wrote so yeah. Also, please give me kudos to inflate my small ego ok thanks


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